Direct Approach
by HVK
Summary: Inspired by a comic by The Stinky Foot; Finn and Marceline having a romantic moment when she takes the lead. No plot here, just mindless Finnceline fluff.


Another short and sweet one-shot; this one's for you, Stinky Foot! I originally planned to make this obviously set in the All That Is Left continuity, but it wasn't exactly clear. Just so you know, though!

It was inspired by Stinky Foot's Finn/Marceline comic 'Come 'ere' on Deviant Art. Give her stuff a look, _you know you want to._

Disclaimer: In owning anything, I disavow owing of anything of Adventure Time, for that would be an untruth, for there is nothing I do truly own. (I have no idea what that means besides a cryptic variation on a 'I do not own' disclaimer'.)

...

Marceline's elbows, his fingers felt, dimpled nicely under her skin, slightly pointed more than usual. Memories of his skin recalled that Bubblegum's were slimmer than Marcie's, almost an unvarying smoothness, and Flame Princess' were astoundingly soft and yielding, plump like his own arms were; Marceline's arms were stronger than theirs, all angular feminity that was so ideally suited to him. Her arms were easy to hold onto, for him to brace against as her free hand nervously grabbed him by the shirt while he leaned into her, lips brushing against her mouth.

He felt the prickle of her fangs on his lips, pressing too gently on his flesh to tear. A brief moment, so short he swore he felt his heart beat just once, and the taste of her was cool and brisk like a wind blown in from the apothesis of all nights curled around itself somewhere beyond the world.

Her fangs, he noticed in the blank sweetness of the kiss, were slightly moist. Her hand twitched, her surprise evident as he felt her mostly dormant heart offer a few sweet beats pumping into her chest even though they weren't hugging (as they so often did at times like this, when his blood ran so hot he absolutely _had _to demonstrate to Marceline that she was loved); with his hand on the inner bend of her elbow, his fingers were right on her pulse and it flickered a few times right under his hand, and his own heart beat a bit faster in sympathy.

He always marveled that _he, _an ordinary human from the backwoods of Ooo, could make _her _feel that way. Her, Marceline the Vampire Queen, most badass of one of the most badass species in Ooo, an unstoppable force of pure female awesomeness and _WAIT _she was grabbing his shirt harder and pulling him in-

Marceline's lips pressed more tightly, fangs sliding across his lips fiercely enough that they might have wanted to sink deep and taste of him; heat pounded in Finn's face and forehead, his heart beat faster and faster and then neither of them could take it anymore and parted from each other, the taste of her lips still fresh.

Her fingers, steel-strong and still so soft, slid off his shirt, the fabric still folded and a little bit torn from the claws now receding into her fingers to form perfectly normal (and perfectly shaped) nails. She floated slightly away, drifting and bobbing on her own personal gravity, and her face was _right there_, lips turned up in an absolutely cute little smile that made his blush even worse, and he looked away, too hot-headed to stand even meeting her eyes.

"Marcie..." Finn said, mouth parting open in an awkward grin, unable to say much more than his little nickname for her, and it echoed inside his skull over and over again, tolling like bells sweet and good and telling everything that was worthwhile about the world. "I, uh, _wow_. I don't think, um, I'm _ever _going to get used to this."

She just kept smiling. She drifted a bit closer; first at arm's length, his hands still holding lightly to her as if she were a balloon that would drift away forever if he ever let go, and then a few steps closer, her hair brushing along his shoulder and crawling up it, a sussurating wave clinging tightly enough to him to feel like a teasing pinch. Her hands drifted to him; one hand to his side, hovering just a few finger-spans away from where his shirt met his beltline, and the other hand staying near his chest and shirt-folds, turning so she rested it atop where his heart was. Her smile got even wider, fangs noticably dulling to mild point as her heart beat, powering circulation of his blood and sending a pulse feeding right under her hand. Proof that he lived, and something that had been promised to her.

They stood a moment there, not quite holding each other and almost chaste in their sensing of the other's heartbeat: Finn touching her arm and feeling her almost-pulse, Marceline with her hand upon his chest and feeling the life that belonged to her in body and name and deed.

One kiss, it seemed, was not enough for her. Eyes half-lidded as she floated up, her hips swinging up behind her as she went horizontal in mid-air, both her arms crept up lazily along Finn's shoulders, cool flesh dragging up folds on his arms, not quite a hug and too posessive to be a merely friend-like embrace. Her hair grew, the spikey wavering edges thickening into something like tenebrous tentacles squirming around empty air and longing to squeeze, fanning around them both as she floated closer, her lips parting hungrily as her fangs glinted in the light. "Oh," she promised him, eyebrows raised suggestively. "You'll get used to it."

Her lips found his and pinned them, pressing down harder than before. Her arms tightened around his shoulders and reeled him in, fingers squeezing hard enough to scream _Mine! _to the world. Her eyes closed in rapturous satisfaction and his went wide in startlement, arms still half-raised in their former position. His muscles slackened as she deepened the kiss, fangs slipping behind his lower lip and scratching at the inner flesh, and all he could do was let out a solitary squeaking noise. She kissed him even deeper then, as if trying with all her earthly might to take in everything that he was, to claim him completely and keep him to herself forever. Heisitantly, timidly, he returned the kiss, and it seemed to please her from the muffled satisfied growl she made.

His hand moved up, a measure of confidence seeping into his surprisingly emotional barrier, and rested atop her shoulders much as her hands did for him. Her kiss softened it's intensity as he returned it, emotiona consumption gentling to mutual affection, and the same principle applied to everything: her hair slowed down and smoothed itself out, she hovered slowly lower and more of a level with him, and her body realigned with his, her chest softening into his own and he could _feel _her pseudo-heartbeat more directly and magnificently than ever and that broke through the shock of the softness upon him and he kissed with even more intensity, and then everything was Marceline right here and now, kissing him like she'd been waiting her whole thousand years for him to be born and tell him to 'come over here already'.

He wanted to make the rest of his life worth the wait for her, no matter if he died as any other mortal or as a vampire to share existence with her.

As long as she was happy, he would be satisfied.


End file.
